We were not far from Kwa'zingwenya, _Nkose_, when this meeting took
place, and as we came in among the people on the outskirts of the great
kraal the excitement was intense. All gazed curiously to see whom we
had brought with us, and we could hear the cries of wonder which broke
forth from the people as they beheld a white man. Yet, though they
gazed in astonishment, they did not draw near and crowd around us to
gaze, for such is not our custom as regards strangers.
Now, this white man and he who attended him, bearing their burdens,
walked on contentedly by our sides, and as we entered the gates of
Kwa'zingwenya I sent a message to the King, reporting the strange
discovery we had made. Then, having taken the strangers to my own hut,
where my wives speedily set _tywala_ before them, I went at once to
learn the Great Great One's pleasure concerning them.
"And the man is not of the Amabuna, son of Ntelani," he said, when I had
told my tale.
"Not so, Black Elephant. He says he is of a race which comes from far
over the sea."
"Ha! And the man with him, he is of ourselves?"
"He is, Father, and yet not. He is of the Aba-gaza."
"_Hau_! Of the Abagaza? I would fain hear something of that people.
See now, Untuswa, when these strangers are rested, I will talk with them
here."
I saluted and withdrew. When I regained my hut the white _isanusi_ was
reading from a book softly to himself. _Whau_! I have seen many books
since, but at that time never, and it looked wonderful. At last he
ceased, and, making one of those strange turns of his hand such as we
had before noticed, he closed the book and looked up. Then I spoke the
King's message, and he rose to his feet, declaring he was ready.
Umzilikazi was seated outside the _isigodhlo_ as we drew near. The
white man halted in front of the King, and, inclining his head slightly,
raised his hand aloft and said, "_Bayete_!" The Gaza, however, bent low
to the ground, murmuring words of _bonga_ even as one of ourselves. Him
the King began to question first:
"Who art thou, who art of us and yet not of us? How art thou named?"
"Ngubazana, son of Tumela, of the people of Gaza, Great Great One,"
replied the man.
"And wherefore hast thou left thine own country--thou a _kehla_? Art
thou an _induna_?"
"No _induna_ am I, Black Elephant of the Amendebeli. I have left my
country to follow my father here."
"And the feet of those who pursue thee? When a man forsakes his
country, is it not that he may travel faster than the feet of those who
run behind him?" said Umzilikazi, with meaning.
"None such are behind me, Serpent of Wisdom," replied the man. "In due
time I return to my own country again, and to my wives. No evil have I
done there that I should not return."
"Ha! Thy wives?" said the King. Then, turning to the white man--
"And thou, stranger? They say of thee that thou art an _isanusi_--
though white--that thou wert making _muti_ of a wonderful and
unheard-of-kind?"
"That is true, O King."
"And wherefore was this _muti_?"
"Let the King listen," answered the white man. "When the _izanusi_ of
the peoples of the Zulu offer sacrifice of cattle to the spirits of
departed chiefs and kings, they do so to gain something. Is not this
true, Great Great One?"
"It is no lie," answered Umzilikazi.
"When I offer sacrifice, it is of a different kind, for it is offered to
the Mighty Ruler of the world who dwells above the heavens. The
sacrifice which the _induna_ Untuswa beheld me offering amid the rocks
in the forest was also to gain something--very especially to gain
something."
"And what was that?"
"The peace and welfare and happiness of the people who dwell in this
land, and of the King who reigns over them."
"_Hau_!" burst from all who heard these strange words. And for a space
all sat gazing at this white man in silence, as he stood there in his
black robe, which was torn and patched and soiled as with hard travel.
His face was as the face of a good man, and in height he was not quite
so tall as our warriors. Now he stood there looking round upon us all
with the eyes of a friend.
"Thy words are good, white stranger," said the King. "But there is one
thing that sounds strange to our ears, and that is that thou shouldst
seek to gain us peace. For we are a nation of warriors, and what have
such to do with peace? Would they not speedily be eaten up, even as
these miserable peoples whom we have swept from our path? No; peace is
not a thing to desire for such as we."
We who heard greeted the King's words with a shout of assent--I,
especially, gripping my hand, as though I held the great Assegai, the
royal gift.
"Yet peace is good," said the white _isanusi_, speaking pleasantly.
"Under its shadow nations prosper and grow great."
"_Atyi_! were ever such words heard!" we cried, shaking our heads.
"Grow great beneath the shadow of peace! _Ca-bo_--_Ca-bo_!" And we
laughed scornfully.
"I think thy words please not the ears of my children, white stranger,"
said the King, with a grim smile. "It is war by which nations grow
great--not peace--war, wherein they destroy all their enemies. The
nation which does this is the greatest nation; and such is ours."
"_All_ their enemies?" repeated the white man softly, with head slightly
on one side and his eyes fixed upon those of the Great Great One.
"_All_ their enemies did the King say?"
"All--all whom they can reach."
"Ah! But what of those who would reach _them_? With every nation,
however great, there is at least one other which it has cause to fear--
at least one other which is stronger than itself, or which any day may
become so."
Now the cry of anger, of disgust, which arose to our lips was checked,
for beyond a lightening up of the eyes the King's face showed no sign
that he had grasped the full meaning of this speech. For we knew--we
_izinduna_--that in his heart of hearts Umzilikazi was uneasy on the
subject of the Amabuna and Dingane, but especially Dingane. He knew
that, sooner or later, the arm of Dingane would be long enough to reach
him; and it was for this reason that such immense pains were taken to
keep up the strength and efficiency of our army. Even then, nearly half
of it was composed of slaves reared among base peoples. How should
these withstand, in the day of trial, the pure blood and disciplined
numbers of the _impis_ of Dingane? We had overthrown Tshaka's _impi_
among the mountain passes, but that was a running fight, and but for the
cloud which descended upon the crests of Kwahlamba and rested there for
days the end might well have been different, and to-day there might have
been no new nation ruled over by the son of Matyobane. It was a
dangerous speech to utter into the ears of the Great Great One, for a
King likes not to be reminded that there may be a mightier king than
himself. It was a speech which, coming from the lips of many a man,
might well have amounted to a prayer for death.
"Nations are like lions," replied Umzilikazi; "the stronger drives out
the weaker, that it may keep its hunting-grounds for itself alone. The
weaker, in turn, drives out the weaker still; and so things go on, and
ever will go on."
"Not so, Black Elephant. The time will come--has come in some parts of
the earth--when the strong no longer drive out the weak, but both shall
sit down side by side in peace. There is One who gave His life that
this should come to pass, and that all should be turned into the way of
the truth. And He who thus suffered death to save a world was the Son
of a King--a King beside whom the might of the mightiest King the earth
ever saw is less than the weakness of a child beside the strength of an
elephant. For He was the Son of God."
"What was He like? How did He die, the son of this mighty King?" said
Umzilikazi.
"Thus, ruler of a nation which loves war. Thus."
And the white _isanusi_ drew from his robe something we had beheld
sticking in it, and had deemed some portion of his _muti_, and held it
out towards the King. And we, too, all saw it. It was a black cross,
and upon it, fashioned in some shining metal, was stretched the Figure
of a Man.
A gasp of astonishment went up from every throat; for we Zulus, _Nkose_,
are always anxious to hear something new. _Au_! This was something
new, if ever anything was.
"Seat thyself, father of the red _muti_ cloak," said Umzilikazi, after
we had gazed awhile upon this strange object. "Seat thyself, and tell
us the tale of this marvel. I would fain hear of the doings of a King
whose house was mightier than that of Senzangakona."
So the white stranger seated himself there beside the King and told his
tale; and a wonderful tale it was, and long did it take in telling.
_Whau, Nkose_! It was new then, though I have more than once heard it
since from the lips of white preachers, but never did they tell it as
this man told it whom we found, my brother and I, making strange _muti_
and offering sacrifice in the forest.
But there was one side of that story which pleased not any of us, which
pleased not the King, and this was the teaching that all men should live
at peace. We looked at one another, we war-captains, and shook our
heads as we tried to imagine ourselves even more helpless than the
cowardly Bakoni, whose ways were the ways of peace. We looked at the
Great Great One too, though guardedly, at those parts of a story which
set forth that there could be a mightier King than himself. _Au_! The
tale was good, as a tale; but these were not teachings we liked to
listen to, we chief men among a warrior race whose greatness lay in war.
"It is a great tale!" said Umzilikazi, when we had listened for a long
time; "a wonderful tale. And now, my father, I would fain behold this
making of _muti_ such as my _induna_ Untuswa witnessed unawares. I
would fain see thee offer sacrifice. Shall we go forth into the forest,
or can it be offered here?"
"It can be offered anywhere, Elephant of the Amandebeli, by one who is
qualified to offer it," answered the white _isanusi_. "But it is a very
high and holy act, and cannot be offered twice upon the same day except
under certain conditions, but not at all if food has been partaken of on
that day."
This answer satisfied the King. But there were some among us who
murmured that the will of the Great Great One should thus be crossed,
saying it brought back the day when old Masuka first came into our
midst, who, being desired to make _muti_, refused, on the ground that
the moment was not propitious.
Now, whether Umzilikazi was thus reminded, or whether his ears caught
some of our murmurings, I know not. But he gave orders that the Mosutu
should be called.
"Here is another _isanusi_, Masuka," he said, when the old man appeared,
murmuring words of _bonga_. "He is white, but I am not sure he is not a
greater than thou."
"I am not the greatest of my kind the world ever saw, Lord. Perchance
there may be greater," answered Masuka, darting a quick glance at the
stranger with his bright and piercing eyes. "But can he make fire out
of nothing, Great Great One? Can he make the thunder roar forth balls
of flame into a buck smoke out of nothing? Can he make the countenances
of the enemies of the King show clear in a bowl? Can he do these
things, O Elephant?"
But the white man showed no dismay, no anxiety. There was nothing about
him of the _isanusi_ who fears a more powerful rival still. He looked
straight in the old Mosutu's face, and in his own was nothing but
friendliness.
"Not in such spells do I deal, old man of a stranger race," he answered.
"The Great Great One whom I serve loves not such. Yet thou--the _muti_
thou usest is not generally for ill, and thy divinations are in favour
of right and justice and for the well-being and safety of thy King and
adopted nation. While this is so may it go well with thee."
"Ha!" we cried, amazed that this stranger should thus describe Masuka's
_muti_ with such wonderful exactness. And the King was greatly pleased
at that saying, and the white man made a friend of the old Mosutu, who
saw at once--as what did he not see?--that here was no rival claiming to
be greater than himself and to steal away the favour of the King from
him. In truth, also, _Nkose_, the words of the stranger were well said,
for since Masuka had been made the father of the King's magic, few
indeed of our people had been smelt out, and then only when they had
been guilty of evil-doing, as in the case of the conspirators of
Ncwelo's pool, whereas, formerly, our own _izanusi_ were ever clamouring
for "witch-findings," ever hungry as vultures for the flesh of men;
wherefore, our nation loved the old Mosutu, and we who heard were glad
because there was not to be another set up in his place.
"I see that the heart of the King is good towards me, and I rejoice,"
said the white man before he withdrew. "For I would fain sow the seed
of the Word of Life among this people before I travel South. Then there
are those who shall return, and water and tend it, before a long time
has gone by."
We saw a look steal over Umzilikazi's face at these words, and it was a
look we knew.
"So it is thy purpose to travel to the South, my father?" said the King,
speaking softly and low.
"Such is my purpose, Black Elephant," was the answer.
"Ha! the journey to the southward is long, and not over-safe," went on
the King. "There are bad peoples and tribes who will do thee hurt, my
father."
"That I must brave, Great Great One; for the soldiers of Him whom I
serve often meet with hurt, and even death, in His service."
"Something was said but now about sowing the seed of the Word of Life
among this people, my father," went on the King, still speaking softly,
and with a strange look upon his face, as he gazed fixedly at the other.
"Now, why should it not be sown among this people as well as among the
peoples of the South?"
The face of the white _isanusi_ lighted up for joy at these words. He
replied:
"Great is the Mighty One who dwells above; who has put such into the
mind of the King! Here, then, will I dwell for a while, and the people
of the Amandebeli shall drink by degrees of the Fountain of Life."
But while he thus praised, we, who listened, laughed secretly within
ourselves, for we knew what thoughts were within the real mind of the
King. And these were, that the day when the white _isanusi_ was to
start upon his travels for the dwellings of the peoples to the South
should arrive never--no, never!